


Opportunity Wasted

by james



Series: Cats and Witchers, Oh My [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Recreational Drug Use, Werecats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Jaskier gets his catnip.  Eskel and Geralt have a conversation.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cats and Witchers, Oh My [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771585
Comments: 47
Kudos: 609





	Opportunity Wasted

**Author's Note:**

> This one got a little serious; I'm so sorry. But in a good way! 
> 
> PSA: Do not use catnip while using heavy equipment, driving, or composing epic ballads.

Eskel tapped on the door to Geralt's room; he heard a soft grunt, which he recognised as Geralt letting him know it was fine to enter. He swung the door in slowly anyway, peeking carefully. He was relieved to see Geralt sitting in the chair near the fireplace, notebook open on his lap – and not at all naked or engaged with his bard doing things Eskel wasn't eager to see. Again.

He stepped into the room, glancing around for Jaskier, who was obviously not present in his human form, but didn't immediately appear to be present at all. Then Eskel saw him – sprawled out on the floor in his cat form. Eskel took another step closer.

Jaskier wasn't moving. He was lying on his back, all four legs spread out in different directions and Eskel could _see_ his ribcage moving as he breathed, but otherwise he looked dead.

Geralt probably wouldn't be sitting quietly if he were, but Jaskier...really looked dead. Except for the faint breathing.

“Is he broken?” Eskel asked, walking over to Geralt instead of going over to toe the cat's body, just to make sure. 

Geralt snorted. He pointed, and Eskel looked and – ah. There was a small fabric toy on the other side of Jaskier's head. It looked like a white dog, which meant: “They gave him the catnip.”

“Hmm,” Geralt smiled.

“And...you're sure he isn't...dead. Or in need of...I don't know, how do you un-stone a cat?” A drunken Witcher, you just shoved in a corner, or into a creek if there was one handy. None of them had much to do with other recreational substances – mostly because they didn't tend to have any effect. The potions they took were enough to cope with, Eskel had never really seen the appeal of using drugs to warp your brain for fun.

“He's been like this for half an hour,” Geralt said, and that _sounded_ alarming, but Geralt was clearly amused and not concerned in the slightest.

Eskel hooked his foot around the other chair's leg and tugged it over to sit where he could see Jaskier on the rug and still have a clear path to the door in case – he had no idea. But something about seeing Geralt's bard lying so still made him wonder if one of them shouldn't go running down to fetch Vesemir.

“He's fine,” Geralt said. “It'll wear off soon, and he'll just be relaxed and affectionate for the rest of the day. He'll be slow,” he added, with a smirk. 

Eskel narrowed his eyes and looked back at Jaskier. 'Slow' wasn't a word he'd come to associate with the bard in the short time he'd known him – in either form. Zooming off the walls, or talking and singing constantly, or.... Oh. _Oh._ “He's quiet, isn't he?”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. Eskel looked back down at Jaskier, where he still lay motionless on the floor. 

With a chuckle, Eskel leaned back in the chair. He stared at Jaskier for a bit, strangely enticed by the cat that wasn't doing anything. After a few moments, he said more seriously, “He's something, isn't he?”

They'd all heard about Jaskier several years ago, both while out on the Path encountering the bard's songs, and from Geralt himself when they'd tackled him at the gate demanding stories and explanations. The first few winters Geralt hadn't said much, but the last couple of winters he'd finally started giving them a few stories – obviously none of them mentioned how Jaskier was a cat shifter, but Eskel could hardly blame them for keeping it a secret in hopes of playing the prank on them all for as long as possible.

It was a shame Lambert and Auckes had ruined it, but Jaskier had seemed to forgive and forget once his panic had worn off. No doubt the catnip toy was part of their apology.

But from the way Geralt had talked about it, it had become obvious to them all that the bard was important to Geralt. Eskel had a good idea of just how important, and this winter was looking to prove his suspicions. 

Geralt hadn't responded to his not-quite a question, and when Eskel glanced over at him, saw that his brother was just staring at Jaskier. The expression on his face was clear; Eskel couldn't help the pang he felt, at seeing it. They'd been told so often, growing up, not to form attachments to the humans they worked for, and never, ever to expect something like this – a friend, something more than a friend. They'd even been warned about visiting the same prostitute too many times, and to trust only one another for anything more than a brief encounter.

That had never really bothered him; he hadn't much need for that sort of companionship at all, much less from whores of any species or gender. Winters at Kaer Morhen were all he needed, seeing his brothers and spending their time with ale and Gwent and trying to prevent the keep from falling down around their ears.

But seeing Geralt's face as he looked at the man he very obviously cared for, made Eskel feel sorry for all the years he'd had to go without. He looked back at Jaskier, who still hadn't moved. “We _are_ sure he isn't broken?”

“He's fine,” Geralt said, and the fondness in his tone was so very clear. Gods, his brother was head over horseshoes in love.

Eskel wrinkled his nose. Geralt looked over and caught him at it, and huffed a laugh. Suddenly his expression grew serious. “We talked,” he said, giving the oblivious cat on the floor a nod. “About....” He trailed off, and just grunted in frustration.

Eskel waited, but after a moment, he asked, “About what? I know you better than anyone on the Continent, but even I can't translate your grunts without a little more to go on.”

Geralt sighed deeply and gave the cat a soft glare. “Of all the times it would be easier to let you do the talking, and you can't.” Eskel laughed. But then Geralt looked back at him and said, “We talked. About you. Jaskier said he didn't mind if you wished to share my bed, with or without him in it as well. In either form,” he finished, looking as awkward as the time they'd all been sat down and told how those parts of their bodies worked, and how not to make a mess of things, both literally and figuratively.

“You...talked. About.... Geralt, I wasn't-- I just assumed, once I realised who your cat was, that... You know. He'd be in your bed every night. I don't--” He waved a hand, knowing that Geralt knew, perfectly well, what Eskel _did_ and did not.

He didn't like sex, not really with anyone. Rarely even cared to do it for himself. But sometimes, during the long winters, he did like to share Geralt's bed, just for the feeling of another body next to him. Sometimes they woke up wrapped around one another, sometimes not, but it didn't matter. He liked being near someone he knew and trusted, and none of it was something important enough to kick Geralt's actual lover out of the way. Lover, and beloved, despite what Geralt was ready to admit to.

“That's what we talked about,” Geralt said. “I told him. He doesn't...want you to...” He scowled at Jaskier, still stoned out of his tiny feline skull. “He's better with words than I am.”

“A frog is better with words than you are,” Eskel pointed out. He grinned as Geralt turned his fierce scowl on him. “So you're saying you told him I like to sleep with you during the winters, that all we ever do is cuddle, if that. I'm not going to break down if I don't get to; you don't have to kick your boyfriend out of bed for me.”

He watched in delight as the muscle in Geralt's jaw clenched and tensed, glaring again at the motionless and extremely unhelpful cat on the floor. Eskel wondered if Jaskier wasn't faking it just a bit, to force Geralt to be the one to have this conversation.

If so, he was definitely going to stand at their handfasting and cheer them on.

Well, all right he'd do that anyway, but he'd enjoy it even more knowing that Jaskier was as much a shit as Geralt could be. 

“He said,” Geralt finally ground out, “That he didn't want to be the reason you had to go without. That if I was the only one you had for such things, he wouldn't....” He let out a breath of air, and slumped back in his chair. “He just wants everyone to be happy.” Geralt glanced over to Eskel, something a bit soft, but unreadable, on his face. “He doesn't want to be the cause of making you the slightest bit unhappy when it's within our means to make you happy. And we're both willing.” Geralt waved his hand towards Jaskier, as though Eskel might have forgot whom they were talking about. “He means it. So do I. You don't have to spend the winter alone if you don't wish it.”

Eskel felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. He found he had no idea what to say. He stared at Jaskier, who moved one paw as though trying to catch an extremely slow moth. The tip of his tail twitched, but otherwise he didn't move.

Not dead then, at least, which was nice to have confirmed.

“You'd really kick him out of your bed if I asked...?”

Geralt laughed. “There'd be no kicking. Jaskier says he'll gladly stay in cat form and sleep with Mordain, who will love having him, or –“ He cleared his throat. “Or he'll spend the night with Lambert, see how well he manages with someone determined to sit on his face while he sleeps.”

While Eskel loved the idea of Lambert being pestered all night, he shook his head. “And you...don't mind if he sleeps with someone else?”

“It isn't like that,” Geralt said. “He's not cheating on me. Sleeping with someone isn't the same as losing your heart over them.” He clenched his jaw shut, freezing as he apparently realised what he'd just said.

“And if I say he can stay with us, he won't...?” Eskel trailed off, unsure what exactly he wanted to say. Won't mind? Geralt had just said he wouldn't. Won't misbehave? That was probably impossible, from all he'd seen of the bard in either of his forms.

In a gentle, and back again to a fond tone, Geralt said, “Jaskier loves sex in practically every variety he can experience it, is always happily willing – but only when his partner is willing as well. Consent is required; he won't make you uncomfortable by assuming you might become interested.”

Eskel blinked. He fell back a bit in his chair, and blinked again. “I...have no idea. If I will take you up on this,” Eskel turned his attention back to Jaskier, who was twitching a bit more. He had no idea how he felt about knowing he could still have this. It was good – one of the few really good things he had. But he'd never really thought it was _necessary_ , not the way Geralt was making it sound. Except for how he'd been resigned to maybe never having it again, once he'd realised that Geralt had brought Jaskier home. “I'll have to think on it,” he admitted.

“Do that,” Geralt said, then fell quiet again, and Eskel could practically feel his relief at having the conversation over with. 

“Me-er?” came a soft noise from the floor. Jaskier's head rolled to one side, blinking up at them. His front left paw twitched, and he made what appeared to be an effort to roll over. He wasn't up for trying very hard, it seemed, then he rolled his head to the other side – right into the wolf toy.

Jaskier instantly shoved his face into it and rubbed.

Geralt sighed. “You could sleep with us tonight and he'll never even notice.”

“Shouldn't you take that thing away from him?” There was a no answer, and Eskel looked at Geralt. “Aren't you the responsible one, with thumbs? The ability to take that thing and lock it in a trunk so he can regain coherence?” Eskel teased.

Geralt just pretended to ignore him.

“Is he going to be hungover tomorrow? Aren't you going to feel the slightest guilt for letting him stay like this?”

“No,” Geralt said, simply. 

Eskel waited a moment, then when Geralt didn't say anything more, he asked, “No to the hangover or no to the feeling guilty?”

Geralt just gave him a tiny smile.

Right, then.

~ ~ ~

The following morning, Eskel was not terribly surprised to see Jaskier being half-carried into the dining hall by Geralt. Jaskier looked barely awake, eyes closed and moaning, and his head was leaning against Geralt's chest as he let the other man steer him towards the table. Geralt helped him sit, rather more gently than Eskel had ever seen his brother manhandle someone with a hangover.

“Here, drink this,” Geralt said, putting a tankard under Jaskier's nose.

Jaskier just whimpered a bit, but he sniffed at it, then wrinkled his nose. “S'water,” he whined, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes. Drink.” Geralt left it on the table in front of him and went into the kitchen.

Eskel felt a tiny bit sorry for the bard, except for how no one had actually forced him to keep rubbing his face in the catnip. Eskel had just as much experience as Geralt did, dealing with one another after too much alcohol the night before, and it was easy to squelch the vague sense that he should help Jaskier back to bed.

“He's right, water will help with the headache,” Eskel told him, when Jaskier didn't move from where he'd let his head fall to the tabletop, cushioned by his arm.

Jaskier _merred_ at him, and didn't move.

Glancing over, Eskel saw growing expressions of confused guilt on Lambert and Auckes' faces. Auckes caught him looking, and whispered, “Vesemir said it wasn't dangerous.”

“Vesemir says that climbing up four flights of outer wall to repair a crack in the mortar isn't dangerous,” Eskel reminded him. 

“Well, that _isn't_ dangerous,” Mordain said with a grin, clearly hoping Vesemir would offer to let him do so that day.

Ignoring Mordain for being more than a little crazy, Eskel leaned over and pulled Jaskier back by one shoulder, easing him sideways to lean against him and grabbed the tankard of water. 

“Come on, stupid cat,” Eskel said, and as he'd hoped, Jaskier cracked one eye open in annoyance. It stirred him enough to actually swallow as Eskel held the tankard for him to drink.

Once he started, of course, he drained nearly half of it in one go and Eskel had to pull it away from him before he choked. As he did, Geralt came back in, carrying a plate. At first Jaskier didn't seem to notice him, but all of a sudden his head whipped around and Eskel felt him go tense.

“Calm down,” Geralt said, in a fond tone that Eskel and the others were absolutely going to tease him for, later. He set the plate down and Eskel saw and smelled the salted fish.

“Are you--” Eskel started to ask, then stopped as Jaskier picked one up and swallowed it whole. Geralt didn't seem to think this was a problem – Eskel was pretty sure humans needed to chew, but werecats apparently didn't. Or else Geralt had no clue that Jaskier ought to be chewing his food. Eskel had no idea. Jaskier wasn't choking, anyhow, he was grabbing the second fish and putting it in his mouth.

Mordain made a sad noise. “There's more in the smokeroom, right?”

Geralt gave the other Witcher an annoyed look, and just took the empty plate from Jaskier, pushing the half-empty tankard of water back in front of him. “Drink the rest.”

Jaskier tilted sideways again, against Eskel, and looked up at Geralt. “Iuhwana,” he moaned, though he did sound more awake than he had a moment ago.

“If you finish the water, you'll feel more like tormenting Auckes and Lambert,” Geralt coaxed.

“I like how you act like we're the ones who snuck in a werecat and didn't tell anybody he wasn't just a regular cat,” Lambert countered. 

There was a sigh from Auckes. “Seriously, are you going to hold this over our heads all winter? I still have a week to get down the mountain and go shelter someplace quieter, like a bear's cave.”

Jaskier finished the water, and took a deep breath, then opened both eyes like he was finally awake. He grinned, wide and happy, at Auckes and Lambert and Eskel found himself tensing, just a bit.

“I love you two the best,” Jaskier said, to everyone's utter surprise. “Gods, that catnip was _so good._ My head is killing me, but it was so worth it. Can I have more?”

“No,” Geralt snapped, just as Auckes was starting to say of course. Eskel knew there were five plants growing in the greenhouse. Jaskier looked up, pouting deeply and leaning over to press against Geralt's side, rubbing his head against Geralt's hip. “No,” Geralt repeated, but there was a note of defeat in his voice. He tried again anyway. “If you're stoned all winter you won't get any songs written.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, drawing the word out like he was maybe still a little stoned. “I can write some in the spring?”

Eskel saw where this was going – he'd had this conversation with Geralt the previous year, listened to and ignored all the threats and denials. He gave Geralt an innocent look and said, “I figured you'd want to hear our stories of all the shit Geralt has--”

It was as far as he got before Geralt bounced the empty fish plate off his head. Jaskier was looking at him though, eyes wide with delight and more than a hint of an evil gleam.

Geralt pulled Jaskier back, away from Eskel, and took a step towards him, grabbing up a butter knife from the table. Eskel got to his feet, ready to fend him off with – okay all he had was the plate Geralt had hit him with, that was fine.

 _”Not at the fucking table!”_ Vesemir boomed from the doorway.

Flinching, Jaskier moaned again, putting one hand against his head. Geralt put his fingers on Jaskier's neck and began rubbing gently. Jaskier pressed his face into Geralt's side again, and after a moment, they all heard him start to purr.

“Aw,” Mordain said, and he sounded jealous.

Eskel felt a tiny bit jealous, as well. Maybe he needed to get a pet of his own. There had been that farmer who owed him a baby goat – maybe he needed to go back and visit the man.


End file.
